Where My Demons Hide
by The Weirdest Sister
Summary: After his coronation, Zuko starts to feel things aren't going exactly as planned. He has everything he has ever wanted, but all he needs is for someone to tell him everything is going to be okay. Zutara.


**Author's Note:**

This is my first attempt at fiction pertaining to the Avatar-verse, apologies in advance for OOC-ness, I'm still getting to know these characters!

As for this story, it's set some time after the finale of ATLA with the last few minutes of said finale conveniently ignored.

Inspiration: I would suggest listening to Demons by Imagine Dragons while reading this story; the idea floated into my head the first time I heard it and I churned out Where My Demons Hide in roughly 2 hours with that song on repeat.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.

And as always, reviews are appreciated!

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**Where My Demons Hide**

He leant against the cool marble pillar, eyes closed, head bowed, forehead pressed against the solid stone. The red veined columns rose high to a vaulted ceiling tastefully painted with gold and red flames ready to come alive. Along the walls of the hall hung large portraits, a pillar separating one from another. The men in the portraits all had the same expression; hard, commanding, superior, with each sporting the long hair, pointed beard, topknot and crown typical of the Fire Lord of the Fire Nation. One expanse of wall remained empty. For his portrait.

He turned away from the penetrating gazes that seem to all be aimed at him and walked to the window at the end of the hall. The cushions of the window seat, the only furniture in the intimidating chamber, sank beneath his weight. He already knew what his portrait would look like. Hair too short, chin too hairless, eyes too full of hope, age too young, face too scarred, beliefs too idealistic. His fists clenched on his knees, small tendrils of fire fluttering around the taut knuckles, and his face slipped easily into its preferred expression: a brooding scowl.

The old, corrupt men of his council called him naive, reckless, radical. Not to his face of course, but they made no effort to keep their whispers hushed in his presence. Every audience with the council members went the same way: A new problem would be brought before him and a predetermined and traditional solution would be presented with the expectation of being accepted and carried through, he would suggest another remedy, it would be met with murmured apprehension and sometimes even vocal disagreement before he would order his will to be carried out. And it would be done, but reluctantly.

Closing his eyes once more, he leant back against the seat, his frame still stiff with tension. He wanted to get rid of all of them, replace them with younger, more liberal men whose best interests lay with the future of the Fire Nation. But he couldn't, some rubbish about political ties and keeping the noble families loyal to him. It was all an intricate game of pai sho. He cursed under his breath twice in quick succession: once for not paying more attention whenever his uncle would try and teach him the game, and twice for thinking he could handle being Fire Lord without his uncle's help.

The sound of splashing pulled him out of his grim reverie and he turned to look out the window. Water normally shouldn't suspend in the air, but there it was, zooming around a lithe figure. Shifting, he continued to watch her, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. Her arms moved with controlled power, a quiet grace suffusing all her movements. His eyes fixed on her face, on the unbridled joy evident there while she bent her element, soaked in her element, lived her element. He didn't enjoy wielding his own element in the same manner. He did it because he had to, because, even though it reminded him of things he'd rather forget, it was an inherent part of him. His element brought back memories of pain, of absent and cruel fathers, of scars, of impossible hunts for honour. For some reason, the reminders of past hurts outweighed the redemption, the rebirth, and the relationships that he had also experienced.

Turning back to the cold and empty room, he rose and moved to the last portrait hanging next to the empty spot reserved for him. Forbidding eyes alight with a cruel flame even on paper, a hint of a smirk noticeable on the tensed, thin lips, an arrogant tilt of the chin visible allowing the man in the painting to look down his long stately nose; his father stared back at him, disappointed, disapproving, disowning. He slowly reached up and pulled the Fire Lord's crown from his hair, black locks falling down over his forehead into his eyes, the scruffy ends brushing the nape of his neck. After a moment, he turned and began to walk out of the room, placing the crown on a small table just outside of the Hall of Past Fire Lords.

It had started raining, but she was still outside, dancing and bending and smiling. He felt a bigger smile tugging at his lips as he leant his side against the sheltered arch leading to the private garden. She was standing near the pond where he used to feed the turtle-ducks with his mother but was no longer borrowing the water from it. She had moved onto bending the rain.

He silently continued to admire her prowess, her mastery over water. She had surely earned the title Master if any of of his previous battles with her were anything to go by. He watched as she lifted her arms up on either side, parallel to the ground, a sheet of water lifting behind her as well. He watched as her elbows bent and her hands made a twisting motion, the sheet now a mass of hardened ice spears. He watched as her hands, now clenched into fists, thrust forward gracefully and the spears rushed forward to the large tree by the pond. He watched as she quickly straightened and once again moved her hands, turning the ice spears into a flurry of snow that disappeared immediately in the rain.

He began to clap, slow and loud, and the sound startled her. His smile grew as she spun to face him, and upon seeing who her audience was, an array of expressions raced across her face: shock, annoyance, curiosity, concern, and finally, bashfulness. Tucking a stray strand of her rain soaked hair behind her ear, she approached him, but remained in the rain. As if acting of their own accord, his eyes swept slowly from her boot clad feet, up and over her drenched clothes to her face. Her eyes, bluer than the oceans that he had travelled for years in his youth, pierced through the steadily increasing rain.

"I lost track of time."

Her voice jolted him from his musings and he couldn't help a faint smirk. "I can see that. Where are the others? Where's Aang?" He tried to keep his voice light, his interest genuine but he honestly didn't care about the others right now.

She pushed more hair away from her face and shrugged. "I don't know, I just.. I just wanted to be alone, to bend by myself for once."

He could understand that. One many occasions, he would shut himself away in the training arena, often bending to exhaustion. Complete immersion, it was satisfying. He nodded and pushed away from the arch, making to move back into the palace.

"Wait."

He stopped with his back to her, his gaze trained on the floor in front of him. He knew she would notice that something was bothering him. She always noticed, with anyone, and she didn't need to sense vibrations or heart beats to know either. He didn't know how she did it. He wanted her to ask him what was wrong, but at the same time he didn't. He turned to face her slowly, and seeing the worry in her gaze, he knew she would ask.

"What's wrong?"

Her whispered question drifted to him and enveloped him in a concerned embrace, one he fleetingly remembered his mother giving him. For some reason, this made him want to push her away. His jaw tightened, he looked away. "Nothing. It's everything and nothing. Don't worry."

Had he been looking at her, he would have seen her fists begin to clench, her eyes narrow and her shoulders hunch as she began her stalk back to the pond. Instead, all he heard was her frustrated bark. "Sorry I asked then."

His head jerked up, and he stared after her as she walked away, muttering loud enough for him to faintly hear. Automatically, he stepped out into the rain, the downpour immediately soaking his robes. His arm hung lamely, outstretched towards her retreating figure, and when he finally regained control of his voice, he only managed one croaky word. "Wait."

He closed the distance between them and joined her at the edge of the pond and watched the heavy droplets distort the surface. The turtle-ducks were hidden away in their sheltered nest. He wanted to hide away as well.

He glanced at her from the corner of his good eye and sighed inaudibly. "I'm sorry. I thought everything would be better once I claimed the throne. It's like they don't even want to change. Seems like I really am naive like they all say." His throat began to hurt, and his raspy voice became even more so. "Is it too much to ask for things to go right just once?"

A small hand curled around his upper arm and squeezed. Her voice, cool, calm, collected, washed over him clearly even though the thunder of the rain made it hard to hear anything.

"Tell me. What happened?"

And so he did. Her question opened a floodgate, and everything poured out. He told her about the councilmen, about the rebellions, about the pressures of the throne, about his regret over allowing his uncle to return to his tea shop. When he finally finished, his shoulders slumped and it was only the feeling of a soft body pressing against him in a comforting embrace that pulled him away from his thoughts.

He looked down to see her cheek resting on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around him. He could feel her jaw move when she spoke.

"You will be the best Fire Lord the Fire Nation has ever seen. You will lead them into an era of peace and love and the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes will co-exist again." She chuckled against him. "See, I remembered your speech, it was _that_ good."

Her confidence made him flush, her joke made him smile, but it soon slipped away. "What if I can't. What if.. what if I don't. I could turn into Oz-"

A sudden shake of his body cut him off. He stared at the girl in front of him, at the unwavering faith and annoyance in her eyes. "Shut up. You won't turn into him. We won't let you, _I_ won't let you. And if you stray from that honour bound path that you've put yourself on, we'll show you the way back." She shook him again, a little more forcefully, and his head jerked forward. Her forehead was so close to his, and like two magnets, they met. "Okay?"

He did nothing but stare at her through the sodden strands of his hair, and wonder where her conviction came from, and if he could borrow some of it. He swallowed thickly and nodded. "Okay."

Her smile made him aware of how close they were standing, he couldn't even remember when his own arms had wrapped around her. As the silence continued, much like his observance of her, he couldn't help but blurt out what was running through his mind. "How did you know? That something was wrong. With me." He tried to keep the insecurity out of his voice, but when she pulled him closer, he closed his eyes, knowing he had failed.

The rebuke came swiftly. "Nothing is wrong with _you_." He felt her arms move up and wind around his neck, her fingers brushing lightly against his neck, and he hoped the shiver that ran though wasn't too obvious. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, almost a whisper." I just.. Sokka always lets everyone know when somethings wrong, and he gets this little, serious frown. Toph shuts herself away and acts out when something is really bothering her and Aang.. Well Aang runs away. But you, you're always so.. solemn and brooding and.." She trails off, a smile playing on her lips. "Unless you're actually shouting and throwing fire around, it's hard to know sometimes, what you're feeling. So I had to look closer. It was in your eyes."

As if prompted by her words, his eyes opened and he looked at her, every feature up close. He could see the flecks of darker blue in her already blue eyes and the smile lines around her mouth, he could feel her breath against his face, warm air contrasting with cool rain. He knew she could probably see the surprise and wonder on his face as he looked at her, and probably feel the thrumming of his heart from where her chest was pressed against his. He should let her go, step back and then run away; he shouldn't let her get too close. But her gaze held him there, foreheads pressed together and arms wound around each other as the rain poured down around them. He wanted to keep that shine in her eyes there, he didn't want to let her down. His arms tightened around her waist, her arms tightened around his neck.

"It's where my demons hide," he whispered.


End file.
